


Feeling Blue

by BloodyInspired



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyInspired/pseuds/BloodyInspired
Summary: After a mistake during a mission causes him to almost kill Keith, Lance is less than happy. Keith finds him, and is set on solving whatever it is that has the blue paladin feeling so blue.





	Feeling Blue

Lance had had a feeling this wasn't going to be a fun day ever since he woke up, and he wasn't thrilled to find out his instincts had been right. First, they got attacked by a Galra ship. While he had to dodge the fires from a small fleet of smaller battleships, he'd accidentally slammed into Hunk, who had just activated his blaster and, because of the sudden impact, had almost hit Keith. Lance had apologised profusely over the intercom in his helmet, but he could feel and hear the other paladins' annoyance in their sighs. He'd ruined the plan and put them in danger. Again.

Of course they won the battle against the Galra ship, but Lance didn't feel like any of it was thanks to him. Quite the opposite, honestly, he'd put all of them in danger because he couldn't face a few small ships with small lasers. Pathetic. Lance sighed and quickened his pace. He had to get to the training grounds. He had to distract himself from his failure- or let them fire him up enough to destroy a few training robots and feel better. He wasn't sure what kind of day it was yet.  
He heard footsteps ahead of him and immediately straightened his posture, automatically throwing on the lazy grin he wore so often. Upon noticing it was Allura, he quickly remembered a pick up line he'd read once. As always, she ignored it, and instead asked him where he was going. He told her he was headed to his room to rest for a bit, since he was pretty tired. Allura just smiled and told him that was alright before walking on. Once she was out of sight, he slumped again and let the smile fall from his face. He was headed into the opposite direction of his room, and although Allura had known the castle for far longer than he had, she hadn't even noticed it.

That little encounter did nothing to make Lance feel better, and he practically ran the last few metres before the training room. When he entered, he let out a relieved sigh. He shrugged off his jacket and went over to the weapon stand that was there in case anyone wanted to practice with something other than their bayard. There were lots of weapons to choose from, but eventually Lance settled on a nice looking sword, longer and heavier than the one Keith's bayard transformed into, and clearly meant to be carried with both hands.  
The blade felt odd in his hands, unbalanced and clumsy, but he had to use it. He had to physically feel the impact of the weapon hitting the robot, had to know and feel they weren't just being polite and disappearing in an attempt to cheer him up. He had to feel he wasn't useless. Feel he wasn't the fifth weel, or the seventh, or worse, no wheel at all, just being there, offering no help or support while trying to look like he did everything. A deadweight, the first one to be thrown off when the ship started sinking and they had to get rid of everything that wasn't necessary. 

The thoughts kept flooding and Lance decided that today was definitely a 'destroy a few training robots' kind of day. He wasn't sure about the 'and feel better' part of it, though. He hadn't had such a bad day in a long time. The last time he had, he'd been found by his brother, standing on their roof and just staring ahead. No expression, no movement, just staring. His brother had managed to get him down safely, and his mom insisted he should talk to someone. So she'd made an appointment, and he'd gone, and talked, and kept going and talking, and eventually felt better.  
But now he was here, somewhere in outer space, he didn't even know where exactly, without anyone to talk to. Keith would laugh at him. Pidge would try to solve the problem by building some mood-boosting machine or something. Shiro and Allura would suggest he solve this quickly in order to not endanger the rest of the team. Coran would tell him helping him with some task would cheer him up. Lance slammed the sword into another robot and immediately summoned a new one. Hunk might listen, he thought, but really, even if someone listened, what could they do? They couldn't just wave a wand and say a magic spell and everything would be alright. That's not how things worked. Better not to burden anyone with it, at least now he can act as if it's okay. Maybe, he thought, maybe if I pretend for long enough, it will eventually become true.  
The next robot fell and he threw away the sword in frustration. It wasn't enough. He had to feel more. He ran towards the weapon stand and frantically searched for daggers, then summoned another robot. The feeling of the blades sinking into the metal, which was usually so satisfying during moods like these, only made him more agitated now. Why could he do it in training? Why couldn't he do it when it mattered? Why was he good now, but turned completely useless as soon as a purple, fluffy-eard alien appeared? 

On top of all that, Lance thought as he had to summon another robot, there was the Keith issue. Out of all people, why did it have to be him? Why not Hunk, or maybe even Shiro or Pidge? Why the one whose mere presence kept reminding him he wasn't good enough? Lance already knew he didn't get to be a fighter pilot because of his skills. Keith was gone and they had to fill the gap. Probably just randomly picked a name from a list that wasn't even sorted into qualified and not-qualified. Of course, he liked to think there was something that made them choose him. But he knew that wasn't true. That was clear enough from both the endless amount of failed simulations, and the way even his current teammates were still careful when he was flying nearby.  
He wasn't what he liked to be. He wasn't the best, or even good, really, at anything. It wasn't just flying and fighting he failed at, it was everything he attempted.  
He knew Allura didn't like his stupid jokes. He knew Pidge had to suppress a sigh of annoyance every time he opened his mouth, mentally preparing for whatever bullshit might come out. He knew the doubtful look Hunk shot at him sometimes, it was the same one his father had shot him after the roof incident. If he's that unstable, maybe we shouldn't let him near anything dangerous. He knew Shiro preferred Keith over him, and Keith... He knew Keith hated him. And that made the whole Keith issue even worse.  
It was his own stupid fault, too. If he hadn't started the whole rivalry thing back when they discovered the blue lion, maybe it wouldn't have turned out like this. Maybe he wouldn't be endlessly slashing at training robots in a failing attempt to calm his mind. 

Lance wasn't sure when he'd started crying. Suddenly there was a warm and wet trail of tears streaming down his face. He noticed them when one of them fell on the robot he was currently fighting. What he was sure of, however, was that it made him feel even weaker.  
He threw the daggers to the side too and pulled off his gloves before attacking the robot with his bare fists, desperate for contact, for something to ground him and reassure him. He had to feel how he hit the robot, feel the damage he did, even if it hurt. Especially if it hurt. If it hurt, he'd be distracted, if only for a second. He could keep creating those blissful seconds if he kept hitting, kept hurting.  
As soon as the robot fell, he was frantically calling for a new one. Too long, it was taking too long. He had to feel it, now, feel he wasn't useless, feel the damage he could do with just his fists. He kept stretching his hands and then curling them into tight fists again, his knuckles bruised and bleeding. He took little, anxious steps in one direction before changing his mind and going into another, only to repeat the same cycle. His eyes were wild and shot around the room, trying to find something to make contact with, to feel, to damage. He had to damage something other than his own mind. 

His mind went fuzzy and he noticed how his breathing was fucking up. It was uneven, shallow and fast, and created a burning sensation in his throat and chest. When the next robot appeared and started attacking him, he wasn't sure he was physically able to fight it. But as soon as his fist hit the robot's armour, as soon as he felt it again, he could breathe again. It was like he was drowning and couldn't find what was up and what was down and the contact had pulled him back up and he could breathe. For a moment he felt great, knowing he could still fight even as the ache in his chest got worse. Then it all came crashing down when he realised his punches lost their effect on both him and the robot. He kept punching, desperate for the relief it brought earlier to come back. But it didn't. It didn't come back. Out of a need to feel something, he grabbed the nearest dagger and stabbed the robot right through its chest. With a shockingly unsatisfying thud, the light in its eyes died. Lance didn't call for a new one. He finally allowed himself to break down and cry.  
He held onto the dagger, holding it with both hands and placing his forehead against the hilt as sobs wrecked through his body. He knew he should get out of there, what if someone decided to go for a little late night training? He couldn't let the others see him like this. They'd know just how pathetic he really was. They'd throw him out, refusing to trust a mess like him with as much as a butter knife, let alone his bayard or lion. They'd find a new blue paladin, and they'd soon forget about the mistake that was Lance McClain.

A soft touch on his shoulder jerked him away from his thoughts. He pulled out the dagger and scrambled back, aiming it at whoever was there. It took a while for his eyes to clear, but they didn't really have to. Keith was the only one in the castle who wore red. Keith looked awkward, unsure of what to do. Lance was still aiming the dagger at him, though his shaking hand betrayed he wouldn't actually be able to do anything. Keith frowned.  
"Lance, you and I both know you're not going to hurt me with that thing, so you might as well put it down." he said. Lance let out a bitter laugh, muttering something that didn't make any sense to Keith.  
"Of course I'm not. It doesn't work against them. You're part them." Keith was confused. He assumed 'them' meant the Galra, but that didn't make it any easier to understand. What didn't work against Galra? The dagger? He didn't see anything that could cause the thing not to work against Galra. Keith slowly crouched down and reached out. Lance saw his hand was shaking too, but probably for a different reason than his own. He imagined Keith was thinking something along the lines of 'what if the weakness is contagious?!'. Keith's hand closed around the hilt of the dagger, barely, softly touching Lance's, whose eyes went wide at the contact. Keith tugged lightly on the dagger and slowly got Lance to release it. He put it on the floor and slid it away from them. Then he turned his attention to Lance, who was deliberately not looking at him.  
"Lance," he said softly, "hey, what's wrong?" Lance was still shaking softly, and clearly trying to hold back more tears. "Hey, come on," Keith continued, "talk to me. If we want to defeat Zarkon, we need our blue paladin doing the best he can." He tried to smile a little at Lance, but it didn't have any effect. Lance sighed. Of course, he thought, of course Keith would only care when it was about Zarkon or Voltron. He probably only said they needed him because there wasn't enough time to look for a better blue paladin, one who didn't constantly put his friends in danger. Lance simply watched as Keith's hand reached towards both of his own, stopping just short of touching them. He waited there for a moment, and when there wasn't an immediate negative reaction, he slowly lifted them up to take a better look at the bruised and bloody knuckles. There it was again, the reassuring feeling the training robots had refused to give, but was there with a simple touch from Keith. It scared Lance. He thought Keith was lots of things, from incredibly annoying to incredibly hot, but never reassuring. It just wasn't a thing Keith was. Yet here he sat, feeling relief flood over him at Keith's simple touch. It was dangerous, too. If he got too used to it, if he got too comfortable, he'd be doomed. Keith didn't care about him, and Lance knew that. He shouldn't get his hopes up for nothing. He was injured, and the final battle with Zarkon was nearing. That was what Keith cared about, not him. 

"Talk to me. I want to know what's wrong," Keith said again, after a comfortable few minutes of silence. Lance didn't want to share his thoughts with Keith, of all people, but also remembered talking helped before. He pulled one of his hands away from Keith's and simply gestured towards himself. Keith frowned. "That... Doesn't really clear things up, Lance." Lance sighed and looked at their hands. Keith was softly toucing them, not quite on the bruised areas, but close enough to feel them when he pressed a little harder.  
"It's nothing," he answered, "just a bit of a bad day." He took a deep breath and looked up at Keith's face for the first time since he entered the room. "How... How are you feeling? That was a pretty close call earlier. I'm sorry..." Keith smiled softly and Lance tried not to feel it, but he did, and damn it, this really wasn't helping with the Keith issue.  
"Well I'm still alive, aren't I? I didn't get hit, and that's what's important." Keith lightly squeezed Lance's hand, who let out a surprised sound. Luckily, Keith thought it was because he'd hurt him, and not because of the unexpected softness in his actions. "Shit, sorry, I forgot about that for a moment, fuck," he said quickly, pulling his hands away from Lance's. The latter had to suppress a dissatisfied noise at the sudden lack of contact. Keith lightly bit his lip. "You can't tell me nothing's wrong, though. Nothing doesn't leave you like this." Lance didn't have to ask what he meant. He was a mess. Still, Keith clarified. "Nothing doesn't look like this," he added, and grabbed Lance's hands again to lift them up in between them. They did look quite bad, Lance realised. His knuckles were deep shades of blue and purple, smeared with red in some places. Keith lowered their hands again, but didn't let go.  
"Like I said, it's just a bad day," Lance said. He refused to be weak enough to tell Keith, of all people, how he felt. "It's not usually this bad." Keith's eyes widened and Lance realised he fucked up by accidentally letting him know this wasn't his only moment of weakness. Keith got up, and for a moment Lance was sure he was going to leave him with his misery. But then he reached out and pulled him up, too. Only then did he notice how exhausted he was, and how he could barely stand. Keith supported him by letting him lean on him slightly. He pretty much dragged Lance to the door.  
"Come on," he muttered, "let's get you some bandages and a cup of tea. Then, if you want to talk, I'll listen." 

Keith dropped him off in his room while he went to get bandages and tea, which Lance appreciated. He really didn't need the other members of Voltron to see him like this. He looked around, he'd never been in Keith's room before, and he wondered if it was very different from his own. Despite his room having more decorations, it was pretty much the same. The biggest difference besides the decorations was that Keith's bedsheets were red, while his were blue. He smiled at that little detail and wondered if the other paladins' sheets were the colour of their lions too.  
When Lance spotted the Galra blade Keith had on his nightstand, he grimaced. It couldn't have been easy for him to discover he was part of the species they were fighting. Still, Keith was Keith, Galra or not. Keith was still a great pilot and an awesome fighter, with, in his opinion, the best weapon. Lance had always secretly liked swords. Lance wasn't any of those things, and he was also just a plain, boring, full human. He was still staring at the blade when Keith came back, who quickly picked it up and hid it behind his back. Lance gave him a sympathetic smile.  
"You don't have to hide it, I won't judge," he said. Keith chuckled and put it in one of the drawers of his dresser before sitting next to him and preparing the bandages he brought.  
"No, but you were looking at it like you hoped it would just fly up and kill you," he answered. Lance winced. That might have been more accurate than he dared to admit. Keith froze and looked at him with wide eyes. "Lance... What's going on?" he asked softly. Lance avoided his gaze and didn't answer. He just wanted to get to his own room and sleep, but Keith had brought bandages and tea and a strangely comforting presence and he couldn't leave yet. So he turned the table and asked Keith about himself instead.  
"Did you... Feel very left out? When you discovered you were part Galra?" he asked. Keith's hands stopped working on the bandages for a second, but then continued. He was silent for a long time, and Lance was sure he'd gone too far, but when Keith lifted one of Lance's hands to apply the bandages, he started talking too.  
"At the start, yes. We were fighting against the Galra, yet there I was. I felt like we had to fight me. What if I hurt y- one of you? What if there's some kind of strange Galra group instinct thing that has all Galra nearby group together to fight you, and I listen? And then nobody looked me in the eye when I told you, and Allura refused to even acknowledge my existence, and it was just so tiring." He looked up again and smiled softly at Lance, who knew he was fucked. The Keith issue had just tripled in size, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could carry it around, especially if Keith was like this. "I stayed, though," Keith continued, "and eventually, through your support, I didn't want to leave anymore." Lance felt his face heat up and he broke the eye contact to look down at their hands, one of his now neatly bandaged and still held softly by Keith's. "What about you?" Keith asked in a whisper, "Do you ever feel left out?" He figured there had to be a reason Lance had asked that specific question.  
Lance turned his head away from him, and then Keith realised. The collective sighs whenever Lance made a bad joke, yelling at him out of frustration when he made a mistake that nearly got one of them hurt or killed... He could see why Lance felt like that, and it physically hurt him to know he contributed to it. 

"Look, I know I'm not great, okay? I know the only reason I ever got to be a fighter pilot is because you left. I know I'm not the best at fighting and that I don't always hit my target. I know I keep getting everyone into dangerous situations because apparently I'm fucking unable of doing something right for once. Everyone in the team has their thing. You're the best pilot, everyone knows that. Pidge is the mastermind, Hunk's food keeps us all up and most of us in a good mood, Shiro holds us together, Allura commands, and Coran makes sure everything around the castle works fine. Meanwhile, I- I'm just sort of here, not really doing anything, fucking everything up and constantly getting all of you in trouble. I'm the seventh wheel and I honestly think all of you and the universe would be better off if you just found a better blue paladin and stopped pretending to trust me because I know you don't." Tears were streaming down his face again, and Keith didn't know what to do with it. So instead of looking at him, he just kept bandaging Lance's other hand. "A-and I just- I just feel like a deadweight, like I'm holding you back and all of you could do so much more without me. Because in training it works but then actual Galra appear and I just keep making mistakes. And look at me now, I'm pouring my heart and soul out to you, a guy who hates me because I was dumb enough to make this whole thing a competition on who was better when it was clear who'd win before it even started. So now I'm crying pathetically in your room on your bed and you won't even look at me. I'm honestly surprised I haven't flung myself out of the nearest airlock yet." 

Keith's hands stopped working on the bandages and when he looked up, Lance could see the pain and shame and remorse in his eyes. Keith hadn't wanted to make him feel like that. Nobody had. But there they sat, the damage already done. Lance already felt like shit and it was too late to take any of the things that had led up to this point back.  
"Lance," Keith croaked, his voice suddenly unstable, "I-" He didn't know where to start explaining it would never be the same without him, not just for the team, but for him personally as well. "I don't hate you. I- I don't..." Lance chuckled sarcastically.  
"Good to know. That would be just my luck, wouldn't it? M- you hating me. I guess the universe finally decided to cut me some slack." He bit his lip. "The other things are true, though. If I hadn't been there today, I wouldn't have bumped into Hunk, and he wouldn't have almost hit you with the blaster. And today wasn't the only incident, they happen every time I'm there. You all have your awesome things and I just get us in trouble." Lance sighed. Keith, who had finished bandaging Lance's hands and was now working on the various other cuts and scrapes the robots had left on Lance, stopped taking care of them and grabbed Lance's hands again. The soft bandages under his fingertips made images of barely an hour ago flash through his mind.  
Lance, standing in a fighting pose, weapons on the floor around him. Lance, hitting the robot with angry shouts and screams someone must hear. Lance, hitting weakly against another robot, and that's when Keith saw the tears that stained his face. Lance, shouting as he drove the dagger through the last robot and collapsed on top of it to break down and cry. Lance, not noticing Keith as he walked closer and slowly reached out. The startled and scared look on Lance's face when he'd actually touched him.  
"No," Keith whispered. Lance looked at him strangely, and he shook his head, gripping Lance's hands a bit tighter, but not enough to hurt him. "No," he repeated, "You're not just trouble. Don't... Don't say that. Remember when the castle got infiltrated? Coran said you knew the drone wasn't Rover almost right away. That you jumped in front of him to save him from the explosion. Useless people who only cause trouble don't do that, Lance." Lance wanted to interrupt him, but he wouldn't let him. "And how about when you woke up just in time to shoot the enemy more accurately than I've ever seen anyone shoot while fully awake, let alone still weary. Lance, you're not useless, dammit." Lance didn't know why Keith was so insistent he wasn't useless, he'd clearly explained why he was. Regardless, he'd heard enough. He stood up to leave, but Keith grabbed his wrist to stop him. 

"No," Keith repeated, getting up too. He shoved Lance against the closed door and kept him there. Despite being taller than Keith, Lance had to admit he was at least slightly intimidated by him. He was strong, and could easily keep him in place even if he tried to resist. Keith's eyes demanded Lance's attention, refused to let him look at anything else. When Keith spoke again, his voice more aggressive than before, it took Lance a while to actually hear and understand him.  
"Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself? About how the rest of us feel? What about Shiro, hm? Hunk? Pidge?" What about me?!" The last word was accompanied by another shove against the door. "Do you ever wonder how I feel, Lance?! Wonder how I feel when you flirt with almost everyone you encounter but won't even look me in the eye?!" But Lance did, now. He did look Keith in the eye and found himself unable to look away, to look at anything other than Keith, strong, dark eyes staring back at him, keeping him in his place even if Keith's body hadn't. Lance wasn't sure he was breathing.  
In fact, he was pretty sure he wasn't. When he forced himself to take a breath, it caused a series of shallow, quick breaths. Keith's eyes widened with concern when Lance slowly slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, unable to breathe properly. He was dizzy, which scared him. His breaths became even more shallow. He didn't understand, he knew he was breathing, but it felt like he wasn't, like there was no air. His dizziness became worse and he was about to let himself slip into unconsciousness when he saw them. The same eyes that held him captive before, now keeping him awake. Slowly, he became aware of a familiar voice speaking to him.  
"-nce, it's okay, you're okay, I'm here, it'll be okay, I promise. Stay awake, please Lance, calm down." Lance felt a soft and warm pressure on either side of his head, presumably the hands of the voice and the eyes, angling his head upwards slightly so it would be easier to breathe. Keith, he realised. He lifted up his shaking hands and lightly held onto Keith's wrists to keep him there. He tore his eyes away from Keith's and closed them. It made it easier to focus on his breathing, which slowly went from pained gasps to shaky but overall normal, deep breaths. When he was sure he wouldn't start hyperventilating again, he opened his eyes.  
"Hey," Keith spoke softly, "are you okay now?" Lance nodded, he didn't trust his voice yet. Keith wanted to remove his hands from Lance's head, but the latter stopped him. He needed the contact for now.  
"Li-ttle... longer," he croaked, wincing. His throat hurt. Keith nodded and relaxed a little. Eventually, he freed one of his hands and wrapped his arm around Lance's back, pulling him closer. Lance did the same, and let go of Keith's other wrist too so he could hold him properly. 

They sat like that for a while, completely silent, just holding onto each other. Though neither of them said a word, Lance's mind was far from quiet. He wasn't sure what was going on, just this morning he'd fought with Keith over breakfast, with Shiro and Allura holding them back to prevent them from actually hurting each other, and now he was sitting calmly in his arms while holding him too.  
He didn't understand why he was so comfortable with Keith all of a sudden. Nor did he understand the strange feeling in his stomach or the goosebumps that appeared when Keith pulled him even closer and started tracing random figures over his back. It confused Lance, he knew what these things would mean if it had been anyone other than Keith, but it was Keith, so it couldn't be.  
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared, too. If it really was what he thought it might be, then the Keith issue was way, way worse than he originally thought. He thought Keith was just a cute guy who happened to hate him, but he had to work together with. Now, this situation changed all of that. Keith wasn't just a cute guy anymore, and Lance was least 60% sure Keith wouldn't do all this for someone he hated. So, with those two things changed beyond recognition, Lance didn't know what to do or how to react in situations that involved Keith anymore. He was pulled out of his thoughts when the other boy moved back to look at Lance.  
"Are you alright?" he whispered, smiling slightly. Lance wondered... Experimentally, he smiled back after confirming he was indeed alright. His stomach did all kinds of strange things when Keith's smile widened and reached those captivating dark eyes of his. He could feel his own smile grow too. Keith's face reddened slightly and he looked away, which Lance thought was very interesting. He could feel his own face heat up too, but the blush was less visible on his tanned skin and went mostly undetected, while Keith was so pale his face almost seemed to match his lion.  
Again, Lance wondered. He wondered what it would be like to act on these new feelings, or whether it would be better to lock them away. Regardless of what he did, things would be different once they got out of this room. One way or another, something would change.

"Keith." His voice was nothing more than a whisper, barely audible even to himself. Keith looked back up at him shyly, his face still extremely red. Lance slowly moved his hands from their place on Keith's back to his hips. "Keith," he repeated. Keith looked up even more. Very, very slowly, Lance started leaning in, stopping just in front of Keith's face so he could get away if he wanted to. They sat like that for a moment, neither of them moving or making a sound.  
"Lance." Keith whispered shakily. Lance waited a second longer just in case any objections followed, but Keith remained silent. Lance carefully pressed his lips against Keith's, and his stomach went crazy when he slowly kissed him back. Keith's lips were soft against his own and he couldn't help but smile. He hummed softly when one of Keith's hands moved to his hair and tangled in it. Lance pulled back to breathe, but made sure to stay close to Keith so he could feel that wonderful feeling of kissing Keith again as soon as he caught his breath.  
They were clumsy kisses, but Lance couldn't have felt better or happier than he did in that moment, sitting with Keith on his bedroom floor, softly kissing him. His earlier pain was easily forgotten in the softness and sweetness of the moment. Of course, he wasn't completely alright yet, that would need time. But right then, with Keith so close to him, he realised that one day, he could be.  
Yes, Lance thought as he recognised the pattern Keith had been tracing onto his back, I could definitely be happy like this. He smiled softly when Keith started on another heart. With him.


End file.
